Stars, Fallen
by xoxcrescentmoonxox
Summary: There are no stars left anymore. Even the brightest diminish, and even the strongest must fall. The downfall of a generation of Blacks, told by the only one not of the night sky.


_Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? / And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?_

–_Langston Hughes_

_-_

There are no stars left anymore.

Andromeda was the first to burn out, a steady downfall until one day her light was gone. _She_ was gone, married to a Muggle born and taken far away from the Blacks. She wouldn't have been welcomed home should she return on her knees, but there was no need, for in her unworthy home she was happier than she'd ever been with your family. You knew that then as you know it now, but you can't help but wonder if there was ever a split second that could have changed everything, a moment that would have let you hold onto your sister and let the others burn forever.

That was not to be, for Sirius fell next, a comet of fire and anger and hate as he plummeted away from you and your sisters, landing among his common friends. Like Andromeda, he never looked back; never cared that any of you missed his laugh and his vanity and his bluntness and maybe a little bit _him_. He never worried at what he was abandoning. He was all hope and anticipation for the future, and that is why he could never stay Black. And you don't dwell on him, for, of all the generation, he was never truly there.

But when your other cousin was destroyed, a piece of you was lost as well. Years ago when Bella and Sirius fought, equal parts rage and disgust, you and Regulus went off together, and even when Sirius was Gone and Bellatrix denied his very existence, you and Regulus had Something. The brightest star in Leo and the loveliest Black rose, the two of you fit like you had never with another family member. And yet one day, the day of his death and demise and the truth of his lies, you finally understood that he was like Sirius and Andromeda. That he was never truly on your side; that he never cared for you or for the Blacks or for the cause. That he was as noble as the rest. He sickened you, and even his shining white memory darkened with betrayal.

Only Bellatrix was loyal. Bellatrix the warrior, the one you could never understand, with her laughter and cruelty and surprising moments of tenderness. Only Bellatrix remained with you through years of marriage and babies and mundane tasks; only Bellatrix remained up in the sky, twinkling down and laughing at you with her older sister wisdom that you'd never been able to catch up to. You thought you hated her, but you knew you loved her—yet in her reckless defiance, she was bound to fall someday.

Now, her body lies cold on stone floor. Now, the cause is destroyed and the stars have fallen and the black night is over. Now there are Malfoys and Rosiers and Mulcibers and Greengrasses, but none are Black, and you can't accept that.

But then, it is fitting that Bellatrix was the strongest of you all. That when she fell, everything tumbled from the heavens. And that now, there are no more stars left for you. Only two burn marks, a lost grave, and a cold body.

Only those petty remnants can be found of the stars. But a lone figure steps towards you hesitantly, the first of the fallen. She can never be Andromeda, the chained princess of Greece in the sky, nor the chained princess of the Blacks on the earth. But she is your Andy, the one not destroyed by the fall. The one who has risen again; who has returned to you.

She glances at you, surprise and disbelief etched across her face. You try to rise, to reach out to her—but how to take back eternity of hate with a word? How to make her understand you have lost too, when you're fighting on different sides; on different wars, really. And how to make yourself forget about falling stars and broken constellations enough to pull together the last fragments?

Her shoulders heave and she hurries by you, pulling her cloak over her curls and veiling the only starlight left for you.

Maybe she was your final hope, your remaining chance to rise to the heavens instead of taking root amid grass and soil as you've always done. But she is gone, and the war is done, and truly the stars have disappeared.

Even the brightest diminish. Even the strongest must fall.

* * *

**I just can't seem get away from either constellations or Black metaphors! It's interesting, though, that Narcissa was the only of that Black generation to not be among the stars, but named for a flower. (On a side note, narcissus _is _a daffodil sort of thing; the line calling her a black rose was alluding to her mother's Rosier heritage.) Anyway, if you took the time to read this, I'd love to hear just a couple words of what you thought :-)**


End file.
